Winter Knob
by Big D on a Diet
Summary: Harry Dresden had a plan to get the real truth when he went to question the Winter Lady about the Summer Knight's death. But with faeries, it's never quite that simple. One-shot, with sequel in the works.


The Dresden Files: Winter Knob

by Big D

Disclaimer: Not Mine. No Profit. No Shit.

Rewrite AN: Butcher gave a great description of Maeve's appearance in the book, a few pages before this version deviated from it, so I added my own, as well as a few other details; for example, exactly how Harry bound Maeve's power. The smut has been made, well… more smutty and a little less absurd, which I felt was necessary, for my own self-respect if nothing else. The plot (if there is such a thing) is basically the same.

"Lady Winter, I presume?"

Maeve smiled at me, showing a dimple, and gave one foot a girlish bounce. "Indeed." Her appearance was that of a girl in her mid-to-late teens, bearing a strong resemblance to her mother, but more slender with youth, save for the places where her clothing was being stretched to the limits of endurance by gravity-mocking, inhumanly perfect curves. Her hair might have mirrored Mab's as well, if it hadn't been twisted into dozens of thin dreadlocks that fell down past her shoulders, each one individually dyed into a riot of winter colors, so that the effect was that of a flowing, glacial rainbow.

Bluish-green cat's eyes glittered in predatory amusement as she watched me look her over, and the smile grew just a fraction wider, lips parting to show a soft pink tongue running contemplatively between her teeth. She preened for me, maybe intentionally, maybe just because that was what she did with everyone; shifting in her silver throne just enough to bring my attention to the shape of her leather-clad legs, then taking me on a guided tour up along the bare flesh of her abdomen, and eventually to the lush swells of her breasts, covered by a simple white tee shirt -- or what was left of one after she'd finished hacking off the belly and sleeves -- and the twin shadows of rose coloring that bled through the snowy cotton, ample proof that Lady Winter wasn't wearing anything underneath.

I kept my face carefully blank, even if part of me had already dropped its tongue to the floor, popped out its eyes, and started screaming 'AHH-OOGAH!!!' Maeve might have been a pretty shark, but she'd still eat my guts if I gave her half a chance.

"You know in what capacity I am here, Lady," I asked her in as bored a voice as I could manage.

She tilted her head in amusement. "Naturally."

I nodded disinterestedly, careful not to touch or make any motion towards the items I had brought with me on the all-too-likely chance that Maeve was about to try and give me the runaround, and asked the million dollar question.

"Did you arrange the murder of the Summer Knight?"

Silence fell on the room. The regard of the Winter Sidhe grew more intent, more uncomfortable.

Maeve's mouth spread into a slow smile, which in turn became a quiet, rolling laugh. She let her head fall back with it, and the Sidhe joined in with her. They sat there laughing at me for a good thirty seconds, and I cast a vaguely irritated, but unruffled glance at them before Maeve waved one hand in a negligent gesture and the laughter obediently died away.

"Stars," she murmured, "I adore mortals."

"That's sweet, princess," I said flatly. "Now answer the question, if you don't mind."

Maeve's eyes narrowed in anger at my tone. "I see your reputation for directness is well earned, Wizard Dresden," she said with a quiet threat in her voice. "But such information is too powerful to simply be given away." She arched a perfect eyebrow. "Shall we make a deal?"

A flash of anger swept through me. This was exactly why I didn't deal with faeries. Letting out a frustrated breath, I switched to Plan B, and began to slowly mount the dais, never breaking eye contact with Lady Winter. She eyed me curiously as I approached the silver throne, but said nothing as I moved to stand before her, then leaned down as if to whisper into her ear.

"Here's the deal, sweetheart," I said softly. "You tell me what I want to know, and maybe I won't kill you right here and now."

Maeve reflexively jerked her head away, but I was already moving, my right hand darting out to grasp her violently by the throat. Her face contorted into a mask of pain and rage as the short length of iron spike welded onto the inside of a heavy ring on my middle finger gouged itself into the flawless skin of her neck.

The room exploded into activity behind me, as dozens of faerie lords and ladies leapt to their feet and let out a wordless howl of outrage. I jerked Maeve to her feet and spun us both around so that she was between me and the rest of her court. The Winter Lady was tall, but still only came up to my chin, and was much too delicately built for me to hide behind. Her value as a (somewhat) human shield lay in who she was, not how big she was.

While I was moving, my free hand reached into my duster and produced an extremely illegal sawed-off double-barrel shotgun, not much longer than my forearm, which I calmly shoved between Maeve's breasts, the dark steel pressing hard against her sternum and nearly tearing a hole in her three-sizes-too-small shirt.

A fresh silence descended on the room, altogether more dangerous and electric than the last. I kept my eyes directly on Maeve's, but couldn't help but feel the stares of a hundred immortal beings, all of them ready to tear me apart at a moment's notice, and each and every one more than capable of doing so if they got the slightest chance.

I was beginning to think that this plan might not have been one of my best. Good thing I had left Billy safely aboveground. It left me with no one to watch my back, but at least I hadn't brought along my own counter-hostage.

Boy, wouldn't have that been embarrassing.

I forced my voice into a conversational tone, still looking at Maeve. Her face was just as pale as ever, but it was more of a sickly paleness now, as the iron in her neck began to slowly poison her.

"I bet you didn't know this," I told her, "but it's pretty easy these days to make a mortal weapon that will kill even a Faerie Queen. All you have to do is take an ordinary shotgun shell and pack it full of iron shavings." I pressed the barrel a tiny bit deeper into her chest for emphasis. Maeve's eyes went wide, fear creeping into them for the first time as she glanced down at the weapon nestled between her breasts. "Of course, there's the matter of actually getting close enough to one to use it..." I gave her my best nasty smile. "But I don't think that'll be a problem."

My words were directed at Maeve, but intended for the entire room. A faint murmur of uncertainty began to build as the Winter nobles suddenly realized that I could kill Maeve long before any of them reached me.

"You wouldn't dare," Maeve hissed, pain and anger clearly evident in her voice. "You would bring the full weight of Winter down on your fool head."

"I've had a pretty shitty day," I told her in an almost bored tone, "Bring'em the fuck on."

I let that sink in for half a second, then continued. "Besides, it was your mother who gave me this little job, in case you'd forgotten, which means I'm acting under her authority. As I understand it, that also makes her accountable for anything I do." There was a pair of heavy metallic clicks as I thumbed back the hammer on each side of the shotgun. "Pretty sure that includes filling your tits with iron slag."

Lady Winter scowled. "You may be her emissary in this matter, but if you harm me, Mother will destroy you utterly. She may be accountable for your actions, but you are still answerable to her."

I shrugged. "Maybe. But then again, if you really _are_ the one who framed her for offing the Summer Knight, she'll probably give me a lap dance and a blowjob for getting rid of you."

Maeve's expression shifted and she quirked a suddenly amused eyebrow. "If such simple rewards are all that you seek, then perhaps you and I could still come to an accommodation?"

I nodded. "You wanna deal, we can deal." I gripped her throat a little tighter. "Just so long as you understand that you're not the one setting the terms." I let that sink in for a moment, then continued offhandedly. "Tell you what, princess. Just so there's no misunderstandings, why don't you send the peanut gallery off to bed, so you and I can have a quiet little chat?"

Maeve's smirked at me again, but raised her voice to speak to the room. "Leave us at once, and speak naught of this to anyone," she said.

However precarious her position, the Winter Lady's voice still carried the weight of command, and the dining hall quickly emptied, fae and mortal alike filing towards the huge double doors. Even the corpse of the trumpet player was carried off by his band mates, each of them willingly bearing their own length of silver chain, somehow having gotten it untangled from their instruments.

"Now release me," Maeve demanded once we were alone.

I shrugged. "Whatever you say."

She let out a surprised yelp as I shoved her backwards off the dais. Apparently, even a Queen of the Sidhe couldn't make tumbling ass-over-elbows down a flight of marble stairs look remotely graceful. Maeve landed in a heap at the edge of the dance floor, fresh bruises already beginning to form on the pale skin of her arms and legs. The bloody welt on her neck where my nail had been stood stark against the slender curve of her throat.

I bounded down the stairs after her, drawing a thick pair of iron shackles from a pouch on my belt as I moved. I couldn't give her a chance to regain her senses or harness her power. I needed to strike fast and without pity. Maeve let out a pained grunt as I planted a knee in her back and forced her arms behind her, locking the manacles tightly around her wrists. I could feel the small, sharp studs worked into the inner rim dig into her skin, not quite to the point of drawing blood, but ready to do so if she struggled too hard against them.

This particular set of chains was something I'd picked up while on the run from my godmother, and had been specially fashioned to suppress the magic of a strong winterfae, in much the same way that thorn manacles worked against wizards. Each cuff was inscribed with runes around the edges, and acted as its own magic circle. Faeries were far more slippery than wizards, though, and this kind of binding would need more than two points of contact if it was going to hold someone as powerful as Maeve. That was a major reason I'd never gotten a chance to use it against the Leanansidhe. She never would have gotten within a hundred miles of me if she'd sensed that much cold iron on my person. The Winter Lady was even higher on the food chain than my godmother, but also younger and more full of herself.

Pride… falls… you know the rest.

A grabbed a fistful of icy-colored dreads and yanked the indignant girl's head back far enough to latch on a collar of flat, linked iron plates, also engraved with mystic symbols, then braced my shin across the back of her kness to manhandle a third set of cuffs onto her ankles. I checked my watch. The Winter Lady had been trussed up like a prize hog and rendered helpless in about twenty seconds flat.

I leaned over and hissed in her ear. "Didn't learn much magic in the Ozarks, but I sure as hell learned how to do that!"

The Winter Lady squirmed and cursed furiously beneath me, indignant at the rough treatment, but with her power suppressed by the cold iron bindings, Maeve's actual physical strength wasn't much greater than any similarly proportioned human girl. Ignoring the torrent of profanity she was spewing at me, I rolled her onto her back and put as much of my weight as I could down on her exposed waist, knowing that the position would press the shackles painfully against her spine. Maeve let out an agonized scream, instinctively pushing her hips up to ease the pressure on her back.

All of that bucking and desperate, heavy breathing was doing nothing to help my concentration, as I suddenly realized exactly what kind of position all of my clever planning had put me into. Maeve's struggles brought her hips and pelvis thrusting upward to meet mine, and I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit it was the most pleasant experience I'd had in months. My eyes drifted downward of their own accord, taking in the sight of a pair of inhumanly perfect breasts thrusting upwards at me with every shuddering breath, barely held in check by a cotton tee that seemed to be getting thinner and more threadbare by the second.

I was distracted enough that at first I didn't notice what was really happening. It took me a moment to realize that not all of the sounds Maeve was making were of discomfort, and that the tips of her full breasts were pressing hard and erect against the fabric of her shirt. Even the motion of her legs had become slower, more deliberate. She was still struggling, but she was suddenly enjoying the struggle.

I looked up at her face and was met by a thrilled and eager gaze. She even managed a real smile, the first one I'd seen from her so far, despite the pain she was undoubtedly in.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

"Usually," she said, her breath coming out in quiet pants, "even when I'm on the bottom, I'm really on top. This is probably the first time I haven't been in control, ever." She quirked an eyebrow and licked her lips. "It's not something I think I'd enjoy every day, but it's doing the trick right now."

I put my hands roughly on her shoulders and leaned down to glare at her. "You think this is a game?"

Her answer was to lift her head up and press her lips against mine. It was the worst kind of hackneyed cliché, but her mouth tasted like clean, fresh snow and mulberries. I felt myself drift willingly into the kiss, and it took every bit of willpower I had to pull myself back out. I turned my head away and tried to catch my breath, but Maeve continued to writhe beneath me, egging me on.

"Come on, Wizard," she urged, a mocking tone entering her voice. "Don't play the coward now. You've got me where you want me, now what are you going to do?"

I leaned back on my heels and stared down at her. Lady Winter stared right back, still straining against her bonds, half in very real, very agonizing pain, half in sheer delight at having found a brand new debauchery to fill the days of her immortal life with. Some part of me must have come to a decision, because the next thing I knew, I was tossing my heavy black duster aside and stripping off the dark work shirt underneath.

Maeve smiled wantonly, then paled as she watched me twist the iron-studded ring I had attacked her with earlier off my hand and test its point against my thumb. Now it was my turn to flash her a mocking smile. I reached down and used the sharp tip to rip a hole down the front of her shirt, starting at her collar and moving down into the hollow between her breasts. I took a perverse delight in taking no care whatsoever to keep the tip of the nail from touching her flesh, leaving behind several long, painful scratches along her sternum and on the inside of her right breast. The Lady Winter screamed and moaned with equal fervor, and I leaned down to kiss her again, mauling her left breast with the hand still holding the ring, knowing it had to hurt her unbearably, but also that neither of us cared.

However much agony she must have been in, Maeve's mouth was fierce and eager. Even in her bound position she took the initiative, her tongue seeking out mine and trying to taste every part of it. Wherever my hands went, I could feel her body straining; strong, lean muscles shifting beneath sleek pale skin, fighting both against her bonds and the pain they were causing, even though I was certain that the last thing she wanted was to get away.

I broke the kiss and moved down her body, tasting the flesh of her neck and between her breasts, making sure to spread broad licks across the smooth, rounded inner slopes of her cleavage. After all, if the Winter Lady wanted to be used like a cheap whore, who was a simple private dick like I to argue? With one hand, I freed myself from my jeans and sat back up, scooting forward until my erection was nestled firmly between her breasts and pushing them together to make a cradle above her sternum, the smooth, damp skin there fitting around me like a glove. All I had bothered to do was unbuckle my belt and open my fly, and no doubt the metal teeth of my zipper were pressing uncomfortably against Maeve's tender skin, but I hadn't bothered concerning myself with her comfort previously, and it didn't seem like the time to start.

The Winter Lady still didn't seem to care either, and apparently liked where this was going, because she craned her neck forward, heedless of the iron collar and way her arms were folded behind her back, and started licking and kissing at the head of my organ, happy as a cat going after a ball of string. I thrust against her for everything I was worth and Maeve soaked up the abuse more than willingly, seemingly only disappointed that she wasn't able to get more of my manhood into her mouth on the upswings. I cursed and screamed at her, letting out my anger at all the times I had been caught up in the schemes and taken advantage of by faeries of both courts, and all she did was beg for more.

Feeling my release coming, I snatched the future leader of Winter by the roots of her hair and used the multi-colored dreadlocks as a handle to jerk her head as far forward as I could, leaning down to bury half my length down her throat. Maeve's lips and tongue obediently set to work, suckling at me as best she could in that position while I tried to drive my cock out the back of her skull. Lust and anger was giving way to frustration, as no matter how much I tried to demean her, Maeve just kept getting more turned on.

Damn faeries even took the fun out of rape.

When I finally did finish, I made a careful effort to be as messy about it as possible, firing a few shots at the back of her tonsils before pulling out and spraying down the Winter Lady's face. It made me feel a little better. I even got a squirt up one of her nostrils and a little in her eyes, just for the hell of it. Meanwhile, Maeve had finally found something about the experience that she didn't like, as she had her perfect face scrunched up in typical female disgust at what I was doing while she helplessly waited out the deluge.

I found myself laughing as I hung over her, stroking out my last few drops, and was suddenly more than ready to have another go. Maeve still had her eyes closed and gave a little shout of surprise as I flipped her over onto her stomach and quickly pulled her hips up in the air so that her face was pressed into the cold marble floor and her backside was lined up with my waist.

I took a quiet, almost respectful moment to admire the view. Random, blundering, shot-in-the-dark human genetics could never hope to fashion anything to match the mouth-watering aesthetics of Maeve's flawlessly rounded posterior. The painted-on, dark blue leather pants only added to the effect; not really concealing anything, but still giving the impression that there were even more interesting bits hidden away just beyond. They rode low on her hips, and my eyes traced the line that led from underneath the tatters of her shirt, down along her spine, obscured briefly where her arms were fastened behind her back, only to reappear a few inches later and vanish into that nearly black material, just a hint of what was to come showing where her lower back and the pants met.

Maeve made a soft, hungry sound as I slipped my arms around her slim waist, unbuckling her belt and sliding the offending garment down to her knees. Chained up the way she was, she was pretty much stuck in any position I put her in, but she had no problem making her desires known, pushing herself back against me and rolling her hips so that my erection became partially trapped between her bare cheeks. I leaned over her and let one hand drift around her hip, moving down along her abdomen until my fingertips brushed against a nest of short, silky fine hair.

I straightened up, bringing Maeve with me so that we were both standing on our knees, her back and my front pressed tightly against each other, and let my other hand play along the bottom of her rib cage. Maeve cast a smirky little look over her shoulder at me and leaned back with her shoulders to reach down between us and take hold of my erection. She couldn't get a proper grip on it, but contented herself with rubbing her slim, cool fingers up and down along the shaft and head. I returned the favor by slipping one of my own fingers inside of her and letting my thumb play across the top of her quim. Maeve arched her back even more at the sensation, and I leaned down to sink my teeth into the knotted muscle between her neck and shoulder, eliciting another cry of pleasure. The Winter Lady's body quivered uncontrollably as I stroked and teased her to orgasm, and she would have fallen flat on her face if I hadn't kept holding her up.

Maeve nearly collapsed against me, flushed and panting with effort, her slender form coated in a light sheen of sweat. I moved to line myself up with her entrance and she leaned her head back against my shoulder to look up and whisper encouragements at me. I eased into her more gently than I'd done anything else so far, wanting to savor the moment. Like the rest of her, Maeve's hot little honey-pot was magically delicious. Warm and wet and snug like it had been measured to fit me. After the first few slow, exploratory strokes, the two of us began to build to a harder rhythm, and soon I was plundering her immortal snatch for everything I was worth.

There was nothing of the tender playfulness that I'd once shared with Susan, or the awkward, fumbling passion that had existed between myself and Elaine. Maeve and I rutted like wild animals, me attacking her relentlessly, while she pleaded for more with every sigh and growling moan. The act was one of raw hunger on both our parts, and the pure simplicity of our joining made me feel more alive than I had what seemed like an eternity.

I wrapped my arms around her, one gripping her shoulder and the other pressed against her stomach, crushing her against me as my release came, then eased us both down onto the floor, indifferently resting all of my weight on top of her. The Winter Lady began to chuckle underneath me, and I joined her after a few seconds, the whole situation suddenly seeming like the biggest joke in the world.

With a tired groan, I pushed myself back up onto my knees, then shrugged and used a few handy dreadlocks to wipe myself clean on. After I finally got off of her, Maeve rolled over and looked up at me, grinning like she'd just been in a family tickle fight, instead of a bondage and torture session.

"Release me, Wizard," she said with a satisfied smile, "and I shall answer your question truthfully. That need be the extent of our deal."

I stretched a few kinks out of my back and picked up my coat, tucking it under one arm. "No thanks, princess. I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that you probably didn't have anything to do with the Summer Knight's death. So I don't really need you to answer anything."

Maeve's smile melted and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. "Release me, mortal," she ordered. "Immediately."

I turned to walk away. "Sorry, princess. Didn't your mother ever tell you to get the money up front?"

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME, WIZARD," she screamed at my back. "DRESDEN, COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!!!"

I stepped through the door that led to Undertown and turned to look back at her. Maeve arms and legs were still shackled, and she was flopping on the ground like a fish, howling imprecations and dire threats at me, her shirt ripped open and her pants around her knees. My leftover jizz hung off her nose and chin, dripping onto the floor in globs as she screeched about all the terrible things she was going to do to me when she got free. I closed the huge double doors on her, smiling ear-to-ear for the first time since I'd lost Susan.

It doesn't pay well, but sometimes being a wizard ain't all that bad.

(end)

AN: By popular demand, I kept the "magically delicious" line, even though I'm of the opinion that it clashes with the tone of the rewritten scene. I got bored and went for cheap laughs last time because I was working under an artificial deadline, trying to meet a certain post count. This version might not be quite as funny, but it has writing that I can actually live with. No salamis were slammed, or drains snaked during the course of this second draft.

The sequel is on the way, titled "Baby Mama Drama" (yes, Maeve is now pregnant with Harry's daughter), which will feature Harry, Maeve, and Lily together, with the fate of the planet at stake. I make no promises about when it'll come out. The next thing I plan to work on is a story about Harry calling on Lasciel's coin to save Ivy and himself at the aquarium (from Small Favor), and then maybe back to Nintendo or WWSHD for a while before starting on the next part of this.

Big D


End file.
